Never Trust Beggars
by Dr. Phoenix
Summary: Based on the 1991 version. Cogsworth's POV before the spell. He and a group of friends unwind at the end of a long day by going for a swim, but their fun and games take an unexpected turn when they meet two beggars.


"Aren't I getting too old for this?!" I protested. "The prince needs a whipping boy closer to his own age."

My protests were in vain. Orders from the king could not be ignored, so once more, I received the birch. After all these years, I was used to undeserved punishment, but it was still rather unpleasant.

I didn't have time to stand around blubbering. There were other duties to oversee. After all, as soon as I was old enough to be considered a grown man, I would be head of household. I must make certain the other servants were completing their tasks.

Webster was reviewing with his apprentice, La Plume, the proper way to write legal documents. Not one blot of ink must disgrace the paper, or the credibility of the entire document was jeopardized. Furthermore, there were times when the script must be elegant as calligraphy, but on other occasions, the wording must be simplistic and just as easy to read.

"It is a great responsibility, but a high honor," Webster stated. "We are the envy of all men, for we do not till the land for food or spend long hours washing dishes or scrubbing floors until our backs ache."

The melodious notes from the ballroom were a sure sign that Maestro Forte was drilling Fife again.

"Not so giddy," Forte criticized. "Music is art for the soul. It must be taken seriously and played in a way honoring the memory of deceased composers."

"Would that make them decomposers?" Fife joked.

Forte sighed deeply. "Is music simply a game to you, Fife? The mark of a true musician is that music is not simply a hobby or pretty dots on five lines and four spaces. It is the only fulfillment of the soul, an expression of innermost torment."

The most troublesome was the newest servant, Lumière. He wasn't even supposed to be a servant. He had come in place of one of his friends. Most of the time, he did his job well enough, but he had a bad habit of ignoring his chores to flirt with the young ladies of the castle, and a few times, he had even attempted to run away.

Like most adolescent males, at the end of each work day, my colleagues and I would challenge each other to prove bravery or strength. On the hottest night of the summer, we had the idea that we should go for a swim in the river. We would use vines to swing off ledges and allow ourselves to drop into the cool water, not fearing the dark woodlands around us.

Some of the young women brought food, not willing to participate in the events, but eager to watch. A small group of us set out together to a clearing not far from the castle.

La Plume set the mood by telling a story about an evil witch. She often takes the form of an old beggarwoman asking for shelter. If you refuse to allow her into your home, she turns you into what everyone sees you as. However, if you welcome her into your home, she turns you into what you see everyone else as.

"So what do you do?" I asked. "It's obvious you can't win either way."

"No one knows." La Plume shrugged. "They say she mainly curses young boys in their tenth or eleventh year of life."

I shuddered. Prince Adam was already well into his ninth year.

"On that note, how about we go swimming?" Lumière suggested.

The ladies stared when we doffed our shirts. We were at an unusual age: not yet men, but no longer children. Young women were beginning to notice (and hopefully admire) our muscles, but nothing happened between the two genders other than the occasional appreciative glance.

Lumière, La Plume, Fife, and I began leaping into the water. We couldn't find any vines or ledges, but we could climb onto rocks and jump. All was going well until we splashed the young women.

"That's it!" Angelique exclaimed. "We aren't proper ladies anymore!"

To our astonishment, she and Babette removed their dresses, standing before us in only their shifts. Perhaps it goes without saying that Lumière whistled shamelessly.

"Now you're going to pay dearly!" Babette announced.

She threw herself into the water, ducking Lumière's head. Had we been only a year older, they might have shared their first kiss that evening.

As for Fife, he was smitten by Angelique's beauty, but of course, their love could never be, for he would never have the courage to confess his feelings for her. However, I knew her bright eyes were the inner torment that crossed Fife's mind when he played music about the troubled soul. They seemed destined to live forever that way: so close, so perfect for each other, but never once to feel each other's embrace.

"Will you idiots shut up?!"

We looked up to see a beggar. How shall I describe his haggard appearance? He was a young man, older than Adam, but not by much. His dark hair was unkempt and matted, almost like the fur of a dog, and his firm jaw was nearly a perfect square. His bare feet bled, no doubt torn by briars and sharp rocks, but he seemed entirely oblivious.

"Come join our fun!" Lumière coaxed.

"We don't have time for fun," the beggar responded. "You're scaring our game."

I cleared my throat. "Young man, poaching is a crime punishable by death."

"So is what I'd do to Prince Adam if ever I caught him alone in these woods some dark night!"

I shuddered. The flames of his amber eyes and gravel of his voice were quite convincing that this was no idle threat. If this boy ever encountered the prince in the forest, it would be a fight to the death.

"I think I can solve our problem quite nicely," Lumière stated. "He simply wants food, and we don't want to catch him poaching, so he will be our guest! What Prince Adam doesn't know won't hurt us!"

My eyes widened in horror. "You mean sneak him into the castle?!"

"Just for tonight, _mon ami_!"

Unable to believe what I was hearing, I changed the subject. "How can you hunt game?! You don't have a weapon!"

The beggar shrugged. "If you can outrun your quarry and you know how to fight properly, you don't need one. Wild boars don't go down as easily as deer, but where there's a will…"

A young woman strolled up to the beggar. Other than the difference in gender, she was identical to him. She even wore men's clothing rather than a dress, no doubt because her parents were unable to afford one.

"Who are your new friends?" she asked. "Spies for Prince Adam who wouldn't hesitate to turn you over to the little beast at the drop of a hat?"

"They want to feed us," the first beggar stated.

"Of course!" Lumière agreed. "But first you must join our fun!"

We thought we were manly, but no one among us could outdo the beggars. The boy outran us all, even with his feet torn and bleeding. The girl could beat even the strongest among us at arm wrestling. They were both excellent swimmers, able to dive into the deepest part of the river and bring up rocks from the bottom.

"It's past midnight," the girl remarked, looking at the stars that beset the azure zenith. "We should be returning home with food."

We escorted them to the castle, where Mrs. Potts was waiting with her arms crossed. However, when she saw that we had two beggars with us, she simply got them each a plate of food instead of scolding them. The two wolfed down the meal, rapidly consuming every last crumb. They would have begun licking their plates if Mrs. Potts hadn't served them more.

"I've heard of your incredible strength," she remarked. "Do you think you could carry home some food to your parents?"

When they agreed, she opened the door of the meat pantry and told them to help themselves to whatever they could carry. The boy bagged a brace of pheasants, half a dozen quail, a few hares, and ten fat trout. The girl simply draped an entire deer around her shoulders as easily as a feather boa, taking a boar into her arms like an infant.

"One last thing before you go," Mrs. Potts continued. "Could I offer you both an outfit and a pair of shoes? Your own seem quite worn."

They tilted their heads in confusion, but they nodded. Mrs. Potts started heating some water and went off to find some clothes about their size. The beggars treated their secondhand outfits like royal robes, and not once did they so much as wince when Mrs. Potts dressed the wounds on their feet. They kept staring at their shoes, as if they were quite unaccustomed to walking without feeling the ground beneath their feet.

Thanking their benefactor, the young beggars disappeared into the night. I wondered if they had been benevolent spirits, sent to test our hearts, but it seemed they were just regular beggars. Nothing unusual happened after their visit.

However, not all beggars were so harmless. We later found out that La Plume's story about the evil witch was entirely true, and our lives were ruined forever.


End file.
